


I've fallen from grace; took a blow to my face

by aeriamamaduck



Series: A Chain of Dragons [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anxiety, Child Abuse, Descendants of HoK/Martin Septim, Gen, Grandfather of Dovahkiin, Mentioned MinMar, Mother of Dovahkiin, Physical Abuse, Post-Canon, Pre-Canon, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 06:44:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8194178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeriamamaduck/pseuds/aeriamamaduck
Summary: Nivea Septa had no hope of being anything like her powerful ancestress. What kind of dragon shook in fear of everything and everyone?





	

4E169

Nivea could see the fires blaze from her window, the buzz of the old prayers making their way from the Temple District. She wished she could be there, basking in the warmth of the hundreds of torches surrounding the Temple District. They were beautiful, turning night into day, though they had a more grim purpose. They represented the fires that had raged through the city at the zenith of the Oblivion Crisis.

She knew she’d not see those torches for herself this year. It _would_ hurt to ask her father, who was likely not in an approachable mood.

Her father was getting drunk, as was his usual custom when anything having to do with Saint Minerva and Saint Martin was being celebrated.

Nivea closed her windows reluctantly, wanting so very badly to be anywhere but in this house with a man who hated his life. Who looked at her with disgust after his fists had met her flesh. She winced when she turned, hand flying up to clutch a bruise beneath her ribs.

A heavy thud came from downstairs and panic flooded her, driving her to run down the stairs to find her father sprawled on the floor, groaning softly.

“Oh Gods!” Nivea ran down the stairs and knelt beside her father to help him up, nose wrinkling at the rank stink of beer on him.

He got to his feet clumsily, nearly gagging at one time before taking the first step. His messily bearded face was dark and it should have warned Nivea before he barked at her, “Get off of me, girl.”

She flinched away and cursed herself when an unmistakable tremor passed through her body. He noticed and started to chuckle darkly. “Look at you. Shaking like a damned leaf. Dragonborn. Pah! If there’s dragon in you then I’m the fucking Emperor.” He let out a thunderous belch before adding, “Oh wait. I am.”

Nivea’s throat tightened painfully. Taking a shaky breath she quietly suggested, “Let’s go to sleep, Father. I can make you your favorite tea and have it nice and hot for when you–”

Her head snapped sideways when the back of his hand caught her cheek and blood burst from her lip. Instinctively she curled down on the floor and covered her face, struggling to not breathe or make any other noise. He’d go away soon, he’d leave her there and she could quietly head back to her room and hide beneath her blanket.

“I’ll go to sleep when I please, brat.” He kicked at her foot. “Get up from there and go to sleep. I don’t want to hear any crying either.”

She pushed herself to her feet and kept her face down as she retreated back up the stairs, holding her bleeding lip and healing it as soon as she was out of his sight. Nivea shut the door and locked it, eyes catching her reflection in the mirror.

She was still shaking even though nothing remained of the wound save for a streak of blood.

He was right. She was no dragon.


End file.
